


It's a Funeral Thing

by TeraArgentis



Category: DragonFable
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeraArgentis/pseuds/TeraArgentis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A rewrite of a story I posted on dA ages ago) Altera Nova reluctantly returns to her hometown to conduct funerary rites. Set somewhere in the middle of Book One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Funeral Thing

It was early-autumn when Altera received the letter informing her of her aunt's death. Ash had passed her the plain parchment envelope that the redirection service in Swordhaven slid the missive in. She took it home and left it on her mantelpiece, unopened, for several days as she helped Artix and Galanoth deal with a dracolich problem in Doomwood.

 

The morning of her return to her modest cottage on the outskirts of Falconreach, paladin and dragonslayer in tow, Shatterfall had swooped down on her demanding, amongst extremely colourful Draconic expletives, that she sort her mail occupying his favourite resting spot, or he would find a suitable use for it, in the middle of the hallway where she would end up standing on the result.

 

So she spent the rest of the morning sorting her mail instead of going over what she and her friends would require for a trip to the Sandsea. Letters politely declining marriage proposals and invitations to hunts with the nobility were quickly dealt with, she had a template for dealing with them. Letters of advice to aspiring adventurers took longer, each one had to be more personal and she occasionally bounced phrases off her comrades. Shatterfall practised his fireballs on the circulars and Galanoth's cloak and chewed Artix's fingers or battered the paladin's face with his small black wings when he wasn't paying the dragon enough attention. Her face paled as she spotted the black wax seal on the letter within the parchment envelope, deftly breaking it to read the contents:

 

_Dearest Altera,_

 

_I hope I've addressed it correctly this time and that you are in good health. We've heard of a few of your exploits down here and can scarcely believe what you've done over the past few years. Knowing you, the ballads being sung in the taverns are probably spot on for once. But it is not why I write._

 

_It is with great sorrow that I write to you of your Aunt Cedilia's passing on the eve of the Red Moon. By the time this reaches you, it is most likely that we will have conducted most of the funerary rites as per our custom. However, her final request that you would be the one to scatter her ashes to the waters and winds. I am aware this task will mean dealing with Kairos. He may be an idiot when it comes to understanding people but he is still the patriarch of Clan Volans. But this is not about him, it's for Cedilia, and for you to farewell her._

 

_On a personal note, it would be good to see my favourite niece again, even in such circumstances. Your cousins would love to see you too (or maybe they just want to see your dragon, I'm never sure). Write me if you are able to travel South. I will arrange everything here._

 

_Much love,_

 

_Uncle Seo._

 

She set the letter down to rub the bridge of her nose. Cedilia was one of favourite relatives, like a mother to her, without a direct blood relationship, encouraging the warrior to carve her own path in the world, regardless of what others thought was appropriate. Her first sword and shield, which now hung above her mantelpiece, were Cedilia's gift on the last birthday she spent in Silvernest. She grabbed another piece of parchment and began to formulate her reply.

 

“Are you alright, Altera?” Galanoth asked.

 

“I received some bad news from my hometown. My Aunt Cedilia passed away and her final request was that I would be the one to conclude her funerary rites by scattering her ashes.”

 

“Our condolences.” Artix patted her on her shoulder sympathetically, “Do you need anything?”

 

“A stiff drink and a template letter for replying to my uncle without sounding like a complete idiot would be nice.”  
  
Galanoth chuckled as he wandered into the kitchen, “The drink I can do, but you're on your own for the template.”

 

“Are you planning on heading back?” Artix asked.

 

“Yeah as soon I get myself sorted, funerary rites are really important in the South. It's considered bad luck to deliberately delay any part of it. So I'll have to bail on our jaunt to the Sandsea. Squizzy shouldn't be doing any long distance flying until he builds up his strength significantly in his elder form and if Whitecastle Pass closes off early like it did last year, I could be stuck in the South for some time.”

 

“I see.”

 

Silence reigned as Altera returned to drafting her reply, Shatterfall draped himself over the warrior's lap. The men looked at one another before looking back at Altera.

 

“You know... instead of a trip to the Sandsea we could travel to your hometown with you?” Artix suggested.

 

Altera paused, “You two in Silvernest? You'd die of boredom before sunset.”

 

“Don't be so dismissive of the idea. There's got to be something to entertain us.”

 

“The South doesn't have undead. Or evil dragons, 'cept when Squizzy is there.”

 

Artix twitched at the mention of a lack of undead, Galanoth was unreadable, Shatterfall glared at his partner. “Well it's true.” She protested, looking down at the dragon on her lap.

 

“If you wanted my opinion, I'd say you weren't keen on having us tag along.” Galanoth said abruptly.

 

“It's not that I don't want you guys to come on a trip South with me, it's just-”

 

The dragon leapt up onto the desk, interrupting the warrior's train of thought, snapping in Draconic, “I know you want to keep some parts of your life a secret, _Laurissa_. But sooner or later, some things will just spill out. Just tell them for Lore's sake and be done with it.”

 

“Really? Just like that? You know how complicated it is.” She replied in the same tongue, albeit with fewer hisses and growls.

 

“I'll admit these two aren't the sharpest blades in the armoury, Galanoth especially, but I'm certain they'll understand perfectly.”

 

“But-”

 

“If you can't explain it, then I still have some enchanted fluorescent paint in my room...”

 

Altera scowled at Shatterfall, now smugly sitting on top of the letter, smudging the half-dried words, switching back to Common, “Fine, I'll tell them if t makes you so happy. Orbs abound, what did I do to end up with you as a partner?”

 

“Tell us what?” The men enquired.

 

Altera turned to face them, “A lot of things.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... a rewrite. Plots for a couple of later stories deemed it necessary.


End file.
